Some Things Are Best Left Unknown
by The Ingenue's Shadow
Summary: Sirius as an alcoholic? Is it in canon for him? I'm giving it a try . . . Harry wakes up one night to find something that he wishes he never found out about . . . Sirius' alcohol problem. No Slash. Tell me what you think.
1. The Secret

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	2. Immobile

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow! Thank all of you guys who reviewed! I sent all of the signed ones slam book questions, if that's an okay way to repay you. I got 21 reviews, and was ecstatic! Well, I know that you wanted this chapter to be longer, but it really isn't. I'm sorry. It's more of a transition/angsty chapter, so bear with me. I'm trying to get one out a day. Thanks again for the reviews.  
  
Chapter Two:  
  
The ceiling of Sirius' old room amused him, for some reason. It was something that he had looked at for so much of his childhood, seeing as he hardly ever wanted to be with the other children outside. Now, it was a little moldy, with cobwebs draping the corners like fishnet skirts; the spiders only looked like they belonged there if they were dead.  
  
He hated being back there, back in his old house and not even being able to step outside for a breath of fresh air. The house was suffocating him, killing him slowly and painfully, and he could do nothing about it. Then last night that slime ball Snape had showed up again, reminded him over and over about how useless he was, how he could hardly protect his own godson. It all made him want to scream.  
  
But Sirius couldn't scream, he couldn't scream at the top of his lungs until his voice ran out and keep screaming even after that. He'd have the entire house rushing to him, asking him what was wrong, if he wanted to talk, why had he screamed as though someone was pushing a knife into his chest? Sirius didn't want to answer questions and he definitely did not want to appear insane, which he did believe that he was. And so he played nice, he pretended that he was happy that everyone was there and that everything was fine. He really should be grateful for simply being alive, he knew he should, but he would rather be dead. Better dead than imprisoned.  
  
He had just convinced Lupin to charm him out of his hangover, although unwillingly. It felt as though Lupin wanted him to suffer it, as a reminder not to do it again, but Sirius couldn't keep away; the liquor was his escape, his only way of forgetting where he was and why he was the very last place he wanted to be.  
  
However, even though Lupin had reduced his misery, Sirius still felt entirely immobile. He lay upon his old bed, his clothes wrinkled and his face unshaven, staring at the ceiling and telling himself over and over: there is no motion. There is no motion. There is no motion. There is no motion. There. Is. No. Motion.  
  
A knock sounded throughout the room, but Sirius still did not move or speak. A second knock came, followed by his best friend's voice,  
  
"Sirius? You've got to come out now," Lupin said, "Dumbledore's here to see you, and he says that it's urgent."  
  
Sirius did nothing. He was concentrating very hard on processing everything that Lupin had just said; Dumbledore was here, urgent, speak to him, come out now. That was how it went? Yeah, that was how it went.  
  
The door opened. "Sirius, this isn't a choice. Dumbledore's downstairs and he doesn't have very much time. You can't just leave him there."  
  
Sirius blinked at the ceiling. It winked back at him.  
  
"Ill take it, Remus," came Dumbledore's voice from the doorway.  
  
"Excellent; I'll be downstairs," Lupin said, exiting the room. Dumbledore swept across to where Lupin had just been standing and looked down at Sirius, frowning slightly.  
  
"Sirius, this has got to stop. I have a job that I need you to do, but I cannot assign you to it unless I can trust that you will be sober around the clock."  
  
Sirius sat up, facing Dumbledore. Finally, something for him to do; whatever job it was, it would keep him sober, just so that he wouldn't be bored enough to think about what hell his life was like.  
  
"I'm sober right now," he told Dumbledore.  
  
"Barely," Dumbledore said simply, but continued, "We have found a Death Eater who apparently has escaped Voldemort and is terrified of being found. You can see, of course, the problem in this. We have no way of telling whether he is lying or not; Severus is working on a batch of Veritaserum but it will not be ready for a month, and if he is it could mean a lot of trouble for the Order. Your job would be to keep him here, away from all meetings and in the house. Under no circumstances will you allow him out of your sight, just in case." Dumbledore paused, his eyes boring into Sirius', then went on,  
  
"This is a tremendous responsibility, and it will force you to stay away from alcohol. I have told you before not to drink but now I have a reason for you. Can you handle this, Sirius?"  
  
Sirius considered. He knew that he really should quit drinking, but the more he thought about it the harder it sounded. He wished that he was a regular person who didn't have this worry, who could easily turn away alcohol with a wave of the hand. He wished that he had someone who would force him to stop, who would vanish it all any time he got near it. But Sirius had no one.  
  
"I'll take it," he told Dumbledore firmly. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"The boy is unconscious right now," Dumbledore said, "and we want him to wake up on his own accord, so for now your job is quite easy. He's at Hogwarts right now, but will come to you once everyone here leaves for school. It is better that way."  
  
Sirius nodded and pulled himself off the bed. He followed Dumbledore out of the room, down the stairs, and saw him out the door. It was only slightly more painful then lying motionless on his bed.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: So? You can probably see where this is going, and I'm trying to move closer back to Sirius. I really actually do take into account what you tell me, and appreciate even the shortest reviews. Everything does help. Thank you! 


	3. Harry Was Let Off

THEY KEEP TELLING ME THEY WANT IT LONGER, SO HERE'S FIVE FRICKING PAGES, OKAY? NO, SERIOUSLY. I THINK IT'S PRETTY OKAY. UM, ENJOY!  
  
Throughout the next day, Harry noticed that Sirius' mood had greatly improved. He now watched his godfather carefully, monitoring any signs of drunken behavior and finding excuses to get close enough to him to see if his breath smelled of liquor. Sirius *seemed* sober, but to Harry he had always seemed sober, until the previous night . . .  
  
The look on Sirius' face as Bill and Lupin had struggled to keep control of him had embedded itself in Harry's mind. Sirius' face had been twisted in anger, a mad and violent rage inside of itself as well as in his hands. Harry hadn't been able to unglue his eyes from that expression and now it was haunting him.  
  
He felt the need to do something useful, something that would help Sirius overcome his dangerous problem, and so he decided to start by copying Lupin and disposing of whatever he could find that Sirius might drink. But nothing was there. Harry checked cupboards, shelves, the pantry and nearly every room in the house before a low, growling voice startled him from behind.  
  
"What're you doing there, Potter?" Mad-Eye Moody rumbled, his magical eye searching the cupboard as if to find out the answer for itself.  
  
"Er . . ." Harry searched his brain for an excuse, "My booklist. I haven't been able to find it anywhere. Er . . . you haven't seen it, have you?"  
  
"Booklist . . ." Moody repeated, "Potter . . . Sirius is an adult. Leave him to his own problems." Moody then left, but Harry had the feeling that the magical eye was watching Harry's face.  
  
Harry knew that Moody was probably right, but how could he leave his godfather to such a horrible problem such as this? He wanted to help, he wanted to find a way to make it all go away, and wasn't the surest way of getting a job done doing it yourself? And yet, he didn't want to tell Ron or Hermione. He feared that if they knew, they would think differently of Sirius, especially Hermione. But Harry wouldn't blame it on Sirius like they would. There was always a reason for things like this, and there had to be a reason for Sirius doing it, because he was a good person at heart. That, at least, Harry was comforted that he knew.  
  
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The next day was the day of Harry's hearing. Sirius saw him off in the morning, and then went to find Kreacher. The house elf was lurking around in the parlor, mumbling under his breath when Sirius found him. Kreacher scowled, caught Sirius' look, and walked with Sirius through the hall, up the stairs and into Sirius' room, an irritated expression on his face the entire time.  
  
"Sir claims he does not like dark magic, and yet he uses it on his own elf," grumbled Kreacher as Sirius shut the door behind them and pointed his wand at Kreacher.  
  
"Edisni!" Sirius mumbled, as quietly as he could. An iridescent blue box appeared over Kreacher's head, quite large and bulky-looking. Sirius reached his hand in and took out a bottle, then waved his wand as the box vanished. "Go on, then, leave," he told Kreacher, and the elf slammed the door as hard as his bony hand could on the way out.  
  
Sirius sat down on the bed, his fingers white and shaking like mad as he fumbled to open the fire whisky bottle.  
  
"Oh, no you don't!" came a furious voice from the doorway. Damn! Sirius had forgotten to lock it! "Evanesco! Sirius, *what* is the matter with you?"  
  
It was Mrs. Weasley looking livid after having just vanished Sirius' only escape from his life. They were all on his case, every fucking one of them. Good-boy Lupin had tattled to Dumbledore, and he had warned everyone else.  
  
"Leave me alone, Molly," Sirius mumbled and turned from his back to his side, away from the door, the wall was slightly less entertaining than the ceiling had been. He wished that she would go away. She didn't understand, none of them did, and how could they? Their lives had been so perfect, growing up with loving families and being able to step outside their front door now that they were older. But Sirius was trapped. They could never understand.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stood over Sirius' bed, her hand on her hips. "*This* is what I'm talking about," she said, "when I tell you that you need to be more responsible for Harry. I know you're worried, but you don't see the rest of us sneaking off to drown ourselves in - what was that, anyway?" She made the bottle reappear and her face tensed with anger once more, "Fire whisky, Sirius? Fire whisky?"  
  
She was bearing down on him, his own mother had done the same thing when she was alive. Sirius could tell that she was doing this to him, in contrast to his mother, because she cared about him. But that didn't make her understand any better.  
  
"Sirius? Can you even hear me? Are you there?" she was treating him like a delinquent child who needed discipline. He was anything but that.  
  
"Sirius!"  
  
"What?" he screamed, surprising even himself by jumping up to face Mrs. Weasley.  
  
Mrs. Weasley leapt back a little, startled. "What? You, that's what! You cannot be responsible for Harry and keep this up!" she waved the whisky in the air in front of Sirius' face.  
  
"Leave Harry out of this!" Sirius yelled back, "And what makes you think you can butt into my business like this?"  
  
"If you're going to be taking care of Ari, it's the entire Order's business!"  
  
"Who the hell is 'Ari' that makes my business that of the Order?"  
  
"Ari Dengised, Sirius! He will be staying here, under your care, and Dumbledore told you that you are not to drink, at all, while he's here. I'd think that you'd be at least *trying* to keep that up now, before it hits you full blow. And I won't have you drinking at all while my children are around; I don't want them picking up any habits - you *know* they adore you and if they see, then -"  
  
"Just leave me alone, Molly. I don't need you telling me how much I'm screwing myself over. I know, alright?"  
  
"Fine," said Mrs. Weasley huffily, "but if I ever catch you anything but sober when my children - or Harry or Hermione - are in the house, you'll hear from me again!"  
  
And she turned and stormed out of the room. Sirius angrily began to pace across the floor. He shrieked and yelled inside his mind at various people who had made his life as bad as it could possibly be, then at himself for blaming those whose fault it most obviously wasn't.  
  
Knock, knock.  
  
"Yeah?" Sirius sighed, opening the door to find Ginny Weasley standing in front of him.  
  
"Harry'll be back soon," she said simply, "are you coming downstairs to greet him when he gets here?"  
  
Sirius nodded and followed Ginny down the stairs. For some reason, the fact that Ginny had no idea that Sirius was addicted to alcohol was so overwhelmingly comforting that he felt inclined to hug her. But Harry didn't know, either . . . Harry still trusted him, and that was important, too.  
  
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Harry was let off. Harry was let off. Harry was let off. Harry was let - damn! Sirius was so pleased and so disappointed at the same time that he simply sat at the kitchen table once everyone else had gone to bed, repeating those words over and over, hoping that at one point he would believe them. Harry was let off.  
  
(Author's note: I am not going to describe how Sirius is feeling in great depth, because I do not want to either mess with or copy Rowling how she had Hermione say it in the book. I'm going to leave it at the fact that Hermione was quite accurate and that Rowling knows this better than I do, and that I cannot replicate it and am declining the possibility.)  
  
Life was sliding down a muddy hill, pushing Sirius in front of it; the landslide of any hope he had had left and more than ever he wanted to scream his throat dry. And he couldn't even get away from it, now that Mrs. Weasley was on his case along with everyone else. Sirius let out an audible groan. He badly wanted to drink it all away, the pain, the anger and the tears that he had been holding back for fifteen years.  
  
Azkaban truly had changed Sirius. It had pulled away his trust in humans and it had weighed him down with much more than he could take. But he took it all, it was what he did, and he did not complain. Now, though. Now, if he could just drink away the memories for one more night before this Dengised character got here . . . it would all be worth it . . . it would all be worth it . . . oh, damn, Harry was let off . . .  
  
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He knew nobody would be there, he knew that it was useless. Harry had decided that every night he would go down to the kitchen and check to see if anyone was there, just in case. In case Sirius needed his help.  
  
"You ca'ot dishobay derrec-t orders!" Came Sirius' distinct but slurring voice from the other side of the door, "Shtand . . . sti-wl!" A stiffled whimper sounded from the kitchen, then a crash and a thunk.  
  
"Edisni," Harry heard Sirius say, and then there was silence. It took Harry a lot of energy not to run in the opposite direction and pretend that none of this had happened, but he felt like he needed to help Sirius, it was his duty, really. Thus, Harry stepped inside the kitchen, trying hard not to give himself time to think.  
  
"Sirius?" Harry asked tentatively as he entered the haphazard scene. Apparently it had been Kreacher Sirius had been yelling at, because the elf was on the floor on his back, looking quite unconscious. The pieces of a broken glass bowl were scattered around his head. Harry wondered what Kreacher had done this time.  
  
Sirius was slumped over the table, surrounded by tipped over and broken bottles of what looked like fire whiskey, and he looked up as Harry came in, but did not smile.  
  
"Harry . . ." he said, sounding as though he was trying very hard to pronounce every syllable correctly. "You - go bac-k to slip. A'm fine. Don'- t worrrry abou-t mmme," He was clutching another bottle, which seemed to still contain liquid. Sirius tilted back his head and took another long drink, closing his eyes as he did so.  
  
Harry suddenly was hit by the blow of what he had come down here to do. Shakily at first, then determined, he ran forward and wrenched the fire whisky out of Sirius' hands, then surprised at his own daring, dropped it on the floor where it shattered.  
  
The eyes of a madman turned on him. Sirius' face was once more twisted in fury as his fist swung at Harry's head. It was easy to duck, but all the same - Sirius had just tried to injure Harry. One of the only people he still felt that he could wholly trust . . . Harry could not believe it, and he was momentarily stunned into a frozen position, which cost him a new blow, which hit him right in the stomach.  
  
"Harry, get out of there!" a new voice shouted, and footsteps came into the kitchen. Harry's eyesight was still a little blackened from having the wind knocked out of him by his own godfather, but before long he noticed the form of Lupin pushing him away from Sirius and stepping in himself, apparently trying to control Sirius.  
  
Harry saw Lupin struggle with Sirius's arms for a while, which he seemed to be after the most, in hope to what? Restrain them? And yet, Lupin was taking blows to his face and torso from Sirius' fists much more than he was gaining any control over the drunk. Harry rushed forward to help Lupin.  
  
"Here," he started, but Sirius had grabbed a candle holder and it collided with Harry's head and Harry fell to the ground with a "hey!" and blackness closed around him. He was unconscious after he hit the ground, but before Sirius' foot made sharp contact with his side.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heavy, no? Well, I'm completely stuck now, so I'm pretty much immobile unless you guys tell me any ideas for this fic. Who should find Harry and Lupin if Lupin ends up unconscious too? Should this be kept secret or should Mrs. Weasley, Moody, or Dumbledore find out? Tell me what you think. I actually care about what you say. 


	4. The Shield Charm

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So sorry, but this is all I have. Also, I'm going away for nine days so I won't be able to update until then. Very sorry. Also, this chapter is very cliché-y. Deal with it. I needed to post something before I left.  
  
"Don't do it, Sirius, I'm warning you!"  
  
"You have nothing left to threaten me with," Sirius mumbled, his mind so far from Lupin that he could hardly see him past the shield charm he had conjured thirty seconds ago.  
  
"The Dengised boy, Sirius!" Moody growled.  
  
"Dead men can't babysit. Nor can they attack their godsons."  
  
Sirius' wand was still pointed straight at the shield charm he had suspended in the air. It would reflect and send back at him anything he threw at it.  
  
"Harry's already forgiven you. You've destroyed the rest of the fire whisky. You have enough of a chance to start over at this point, so take it and stop being a fool," Moody continued.  
  
"Elibommi!" Sirius muttered, and he took his hand away from his wand, which now kept itself in midair, despite whatever would try to move it.  
  
"Sirius, be reasonable," Lupin said through gritted teeth, obviously trying to appear patient.  
  
But Sirius had planned to not listen to any of this. He'd just wanted Moody and Lupin around so that they could make it clear to Harry how sorry he'd been for what he did and that that was the reason that he would kill himself. All for Harry.  
  
Sirius looked around the room. His best living friend was about to be abandoned for the third and possibly last time in his lifetime. I'm sorry, Moony. I really am, Sirius thought only. He was unable to speak it aloud, but repeating it in his head was comforting, at least a little. You were my best friend, too. Lupin looked as though he was ready to jump in and stop Sirius, but Sirius knew he didn't have the guts. Lupin wasn't going to be in the way. And then there was the Auror, Mad-Eye. He was evaluating the situation as well, wondering if Sirius was really going to do it. Watch this, Moody . . .  
  
"Ava-" he started, but stopped shortly. He couldn't do this, it just would prove to everyone else how weak he was. Sirius was not weak, but he deserved death. And yet . . . death was an escape, and it was almost as though he was using the previous night's events as an excuse to commit suicide. And then as this thought process became more pronounced, a newer and more powerful one shot upward. He hated himself, for all he had done, for all he had not done! He didn't deserve death, he deserved punishment, and he deserved worse punishment than his father's beatings had ever provided.  
  
"Crucio!" Sirius yelled, and the wand stood firm as Sirius fell to the ground and writhed in pain, his screams ricocheting off the walls of Number 12, Grimmauld place.  
  
Lupin and Moody jumped in immediately and tried to get the wand out of the air, but it was stuck where it was by Sirius' strong immobilization charm. It continued to torture its owner unknowingly, all the while calmly refusing to be pulled out of the air. It was Moody who started to break down the actual shield charm, eventually shattering it and thus halting Sirius' self-abuse.  
  
Lupin looked down at Sirius, now completely motionless on the ground although his eyes were wide open. Lupin also noticed that a faint smile was upon Sirius' face, almost a very slight smug grin. Sirius had finally gotten what he wanted, to be able to scream aloud, scream bloody murder, and have a decent reason. A painful chuckle escaped his throat.  
  
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Sirius knocked on the door to the room where Harry was staying. "Harry?" he said tentatively, "Are you in there?" He was sober, but not from one of Lupin's sobriety charms.  
  
The door opened. Harry had heard Sirius' voice from the opposite side of the door, but had refused to answer it for a while. Sirius hadn't given up. Seeing Sirius on the other side almost gave Harry a shock, because he was obviously normal again, but was looking worse than Harry had ever seen him, the exception maybe being the night the two had first met. Once again his hair was matted and tangled, and it looked as if he had not shaved in several days. His entire body seemed so distressed, but it was obviously not physical pain he was experiencing.  
  
Harry followed Sirius silently out of his room and up several flights of stairs into the attic. It looked as if it had recently undergone severe cleaning supervised by Mrs. Weasley. Sirius gestured offering Harry a seat on the empty wooden floor, and Harry sat. He wasn't sure why Sirius wasn't saying anything; it was starting to make him very nervous.  
  
"Sirius?" Harry said, as Sirius sat down beside him and laid his head back against the wall. It looked to Harry like Sirius spent a lot of time in this attic.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth slightly, paused for a moment, then choked out very quickly, "Harry, I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's okay -" Harry started, but Sirius held up his hand.  
  
"I threw it all away," Sirius continued, closing his eyes and absentmindedly banging his head rhythmically against the wall behind him, "but you tried to stop me, and I . . . I . . . I'm so sorry, Harry. I can't even bring myself to say what I did. Never again, I promise. Never again . . ." his voice trailed off, leaving Harry feeling incredibly uncomfortable in his presence.  
  
"Sirius?" Harry asked again, uneasily wondering if Sirius should stop banging his head against the wall. It looked as if it might cause long-term damage.  
  
"I swear I won't," Sirius finally said, halting the abuse to his skull and turning to Harry as though to look him straight in the eyes, "ever drink again."  
  
Harry thought it looked painful for him to say. 


	5. While You Were Sleeping

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I tried to type this up super quick since I've been gone for a week! It's really short, but I wanted to get something up. I'm sorry. Please review.  
  
Chapter Five:  
  
Ari Dengised arrived uncannily close in time to when Sirius got back from King's Cross. He had fairly short dark, curly hair and Sirius would not have been surprised if he was Harry's age; he looked so young; very scrawny, actually. No specific trait separated Ari from any other boy on the planet, for he was quite plain. Sirius kept telling himself that Ari must have curious eyes to make up for his outer plainness, but did not even know if the boy would wake up. There was no moral way of seeing his eyes.  
  
He was badly scratched and bruised on his arms and legs and face, his hair looked out of place, he had a skinny leg broken in three places. He had the air of someone honest, someone clean. Perhaps he had gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters on accident? Sirius was a little unnerved when he realized that the boy had not even awoken yet, but already had Sirius' full trust. That could not be a good sign.  
  
"Don't wake him, don't try to heal him, and, Sirius? *Don't drink,*" Tonks had pleaded when she had brought Ari over. "Please."  
  
"I swore to Harry I wouldn't," Sirius had irritably replied, kissing Tonks on the head before she left, "I don't have a choice."  
  
"I mean it, Sirius. You don't listen to anything any of us say, but we *care* about you, and that's why we say it. I want you to promise me, too."  
  
Sirius had hesitated. Promising something to Tonks was so different from promising something to Harry. With Harry, how would he ever find out if the promise was broken? But Tonks would find out if he lied to her; the entire Order would know.  
  
"I promise," he had said, regretting every word.  
  
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The first few nights, Sirius thought that the Dengised boy was dead. He was so pale, and still had not woken up. And every morning when Sirius woke up, he would rush to Harry's old room, where Ari was staying for practical purposes, and every morning, Ari's cuts deepened and his bruises blackened.  
  
It mystified Sirius, but he followed what Tonks said and didn't mess with the boy's wounds, even though it was painful watching and not being able to try to help. And it was something Sirius did a lot, sat in Phineas' room and watched Ari. He'd do it for hours on end, just stare at the kid, who kept sleeping, unaware that his presence was someone's sole form of entertainment.  
  
Sirius imagined himself as Ari. He imagined himself back in youth, gloriously young and untroubled. He could just picture Ari going through life as Sirius had back in school, getting in trouble, chatting with friends . . . he could even see Ari confidently swaggering up to Sarah Letni, a pretty blonde in the year above him, and getting magnificently shot down on the spot. She'd written me later, though, and accepted, Sirius thought smugly. But he *really* didn't want to think about Sarah. Especially now. Sarah had always resented Sirius' addiction to liquor, and if she had seen him a few weeks ago . . .  
  
It was true. Even in his youth Sirius hadn't been able to resist getting good and drunk, even though James and Lupin usually looked the other way when he was. It was always laughed about a week later, though. Always. 


	6. Shots and Vanilla

AUTHOR'S NOTE: SORRY, ANOTHER SHORTIE. Okay, now remember this: when you review, tell me what you think Ari should be like. Because I have NO IDEA! So talk to me. Oh, and I made up the two percentages from vanilla extract except the last one.  
  
Chapter Six:  
  
"Sirius WHAT?" Hermione squeaked.  
  
Damn. Harry really shouldn't have tried to confide in Ron and Hermione about how worried he was with Sirius alone in Grimmauld Place. Okay, so maybe that wasn't the problem. He just really shouldn't have told them about Sirius' . . . er . . . issue.  
  
"Shh," Harry implored, "Hermione, please. I told you, he's trying to quit!"  
  
"But you said you weren't sure -" Hermione whined.  
  
"If he told me he will, he will. Hermione, don't look at me like that!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione said quickly, looking to Ron for help.  
  
"It's not *that* big of a deal, you know," Ron said carefully, "I mean, it's not like he's violent or anything. I'm surprised, I can usually tell . . ." Harry had not told Ron or Hermione about *how* he had found out about Sirius' drinking.  
  
"What do you mean, you can usually tell?" Hermione said suspiciously.  
  
"Er . . . nothing," Ron said, but Hermione opened her mouth and looked as if she was about to say something, "All I'm saying is, it happens to a lot of people. Just because he drinks doesn't mean he's got a problem. People go through phases in their lives when they drink. Bill did, when his friends at work were."  
  
Harry was starting to feel a little better about all of this, but Hermione squashed it, "So Bill went through a phase. He shouldn't have done it at all, and none of *us* would ever even *think* about it. Ron? Why are you looking at the floor? Ron?"  
  
"Hmm?" Ron said, at a failed attempt at someone coming out of a daydream.  
  
"Ron, you *haven't,*" Hermione breathed.  
  
"I've had a couple of shots before, okay?" Ron snapped, although Harry noticed that he looked rather pleased with himself. He guessed that if Ron had not been in the presence of Hermione, he would have made quite a show of his few wasted hours.  
  
Everything else that happened that night in the common room was comprised entirely of argument between Harry's friends, but at the end of the night he was completely confused. Sirius drinking was bad, but Fred and George giving their younger brother a couple of shots was harmless? It made no sense whatsoever to Harry, so he went to bed extremely bewildered.  
  
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Sirius sighed and got up from the dark maple chair he'd stationed the previous day by Ari's bedside. The boy had been stirring that morning, but it looked like that was all he was going to do.  
  
He sloppily trudged down the stairs and set a pot of coffee to heat up. Damn, he'd had a lot of coffee lately. But it wasn't alcohol. It wasn't alcohol. It was coffee. And Sirius was practically living off it. He kept wondering if he should feed the Dengised boy anything, but he was still asleep, and Tonks had said not to try to help . . .  
  
When the coffee was lukewarm, Sirius decided he couldn't wait any longer for it, so he blew the heavy dust covering off an old, chipped mug and set it down on the counter. He poured the coffee in carelessly, spilling a little on the counter and taking just enough time to consider wiping it up before deciding not to. The monotony of it was just as he'd been doing a few times a day since Ari Dengised had gotten dropped off. Pot to stove, coffee to mug, don't wipe up the mess. With a sigh so audible it could beat down every other sigh Sirius had let out that day, he dumped a two-ounce bottle of vanilla extract into his coffee mug and casually stirred it before setting off to return upstairs to his babysitting job.  
  
But something was missing; Sirius noticed it as soon as he hit the second landing. It was the heavy, labored breathing of Ari Dengised; it was absent from the dank hallway as well.  
  
Sirius' immediate thought was that Ari was dead, that he had finally given out, just as it looked like he was about to on a daily basis. When he raced into the room to see, he met a huge surprise.  
  
Pure Vanilla Extract 2 Fl oz, 118 mL Ingredients: 19.5 % Vanilla bean extracts in water 45.5 % Corn Syrup 35 % Alcohol 


End file.
